


Dancing, a Coin, and a Button

by Diary



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Bechdel Test Fail, Dancing, Friendship, Gen, Non-Explicit Nudity, POV Male Character, POV Multiple, Post-Season/Series 05 AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-13
Updated: 2017-01-13
Packaged: 2018-09-17 06:12:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9308822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diary/pseuds/Diary
Summary: AU. A glimpse into the mentality of a wildling friend of Pod's from Pod and Jon's POVs. Complete.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Game of Thrones.
> 
> Author's Notes: Cottie was in another fic of mine, Strength in Softness.

Pod jumps slightly when someone plops down beside him but smiles when he sees it’s Cottie.

“You crows are talking about the mad goldhand’s sister going on a walk, and there’s shame in this?”

“Ser Jaime isn’t mad, Cottie,” he automatically reminds her.

“You’ll see, someday,” she insists. “I thought even the claimed-graced rich walked around some. They can’t have someone carrying them or be riding horses or wagons everywhere, can they? Or I’ve heard about the Snow crow’s missing brother, but surely, not many can be like him?”

He sighs. “A powerful septon had Queen Cersei’s body completely shaved and forced her to walk naked down the streets.”

She looks at him with incomprehension written on her face, and he tries, “She couldn’t just kill him to stop him. If she did, the citizens of King’s Landing would have killed her.”

“Sometimes, you just can’t kill people, even if you have cause to. What I don’t understand is, hair grows back, and what’s the shame in walking around naked?”

He considers how best to explain. “I don’t know how the Free Folk view such things, my lady, but people south of the wall, we’re all raised to believe that naked women should only be seen by certain people at certain times. It’s not a good thing when other people see them outside of those times. They often feel- violated, I imagine, and society looks down on them.”

Her look is utterly unimpressed. “Why?”

“It’s- how things are done?”

“Sounds like a way to make it easier for the rich to control the poor and all men to be able to control all women,” she replies.

Feeling uncomfortable, he realises there’s likely a good amount of truth in her words.

“Right,” she says.

He’s immediately on-guard. “Cottie-”

Waving him quiet, she stands up and starts to take off her clothes. “Shouldn’t try to stop me, Pod of the Pots. The caves my folk conquer are usually very cold, but here, the sun is warm, and children are still growing. If they end up being Southerners, hopefully, they won’t be like that septon and the mad goldhand or, worse, like that shamed queen.”

Folding the clothes as she discards them, he says, “I know I could probably never stop you from doing anything, my lady. But, please, at least, be careful.”

She begins dancing away, and jumping up, he hurries to stay near her.

A few men gape at her, but thankfully, no one makes any moves toward her, and Pod lets himself start to relax.

…

Jon looks up from his wine just in time to see a completely naked wildling (her name is Cottle, he remembers) dancing through the camp with a frenzied-looking Podrick Payne hurrying after her, though, thankfully, it doesn’t appear he’s chasing her.

Beside him, Tormund laughs. “When she calls herself a cave conqueror, I don’t argue. Cave people, you know my views, Jon Snow, but that one you’re drooling over, her tribe is good and strong. And they don’t usually bother with that damned face paint.”

Uneasily watching the way some of the men are looking at her, he protests, “I’m not drooling.”

Clasping his shoulder, Tormund says, “Don’t be afraid for her. Anyone she doesn’t want touching her, they try, they pay, and you let her make them.”

“She is completely unarmed!” Peering closely at Pod, he adds, “And Lady Brienne’s squire doesn’t appear to be armed, either.”

“She’ll protect him, too, if need be.”

Jon tries to decide if Tormund is deliberately missing his point or not.

“Some people need to carry weapons,” Tormund adds. “Most, if I’m being honest. Cave conquerors, though, some of them have utterly daft ideas about not. Don’t know if she’s one of them, but it’s worth saying, some of these,” he uses several terms Jon is glad none of the aforementioned cave conquerors are around to hear, “they’re attacked, and they leave the attacker dead or worse. It’s a point of pride for them, they don’t attack first, they don’t carry weapons, and they don’t ever fall easy.”

Finishing the last of his wine, Jon starts to go get some more when he realises Cottle and Pod have gotten much closer. She’s dancing with her eyes closed, Pod’s eyes are focused on her, and before Jon can move out of the way, she bumps into him.

He feels discomfort sweep through him when her eyes open, take him in, and immediately go from lively to resembling a frightened rabbit.

“It’s okay,” Pod immediately soothes. Hurriedly digging a button and a coin out, he wraps her shaking hand around them. “Go on, Cottie.”

Doing something resembling a curtsey, Cottle holds them between her fingers out to Jon, and Pod gives him a pleading look.

Despite his uneasiness, being careful not to touch her, Jon takes the button and coin. The latter is a cooper star of Robert Baratheon, but something about this whole situation tells him it wouldn’t be good to make how much he’d rather not have such a coin known. “Thank you, my lady,” he offers.

Giving him a relieved, thankful look, Pod grabs her hand. “It’s okay. Would you like to go to the weirwood trees, Cottie?”

Still refusing to look at Jon, she nods and hurries away with him.

“Seems she’s one of the superstitious ones,” Tormund comments. “Don’t know what makes her think a bleeding coin would appease whatever she thinks ya are.”

Jon is more curious about the button, but he supposes Pod either didn’t have any more coins or, understandably, didn’t want to give anymore away.

…

Putting her clothes back on, Cottie frets, “What if that wasn’t enough? Gods and the like don’t care about coins. Unless he’s a,” she says a word Pod can’t understand, “then, he would. But for all Giantsbane doesn’t hold to the worship, even he wouldn’t cross such a thing. What if he only looks kindly on you? A hare! I can-”

“No,” Pod says.

He knows he can’t stop her, but he really doesn’t want her to give up or, worse, kill one of her pet hares.

“Cottie, he’s not a god or anything like that.”

“He came back to live. Died, not in heavens nor hells, is he, but not a spirit, neither. Back to flesh-and-blood, is he. I had an- aunt, I think she’d be called, once, and her heart stopped for a bit, but one of the herb gathers got it beating again, and she lived ‘til about two years ago. This is different. Dead and cold-bodied for over a day, he was, and something or someone let that red priestess bring him back.”

She shivers, shakes her head, and looks at him with worried eyes. “Pray he’s good, Pod of Pots, or your human giantess will fight against him, you know she will. And strong as she is and good as you believe her to be, even giant giants don’t win against things like whatever he might be.”

Pod will never tell Cottie, but the truth is, he’s more worried about Lady Sansa being a threat. Lady Brienne could kill Jon Snow easily, and though she’s grateful to him, she doesn’t consider him her king. King Renly Baratheon, First of His Name, will always be her true king. Aside from Ser Davos, no one seems to care about her killing Stannis, but if Lady Sansa turns against her half-brother, Lady Brienne might find herself worse off than Ser Jaime.

Lady Sansa seems kind, but he’s heard she and Petyr Baelish often speak privately. The fact she survived Joffrey, Cersei, and the Boltons only means she’s clever, and willingly choosing to spend her time with someone such as Baelish once she’s free and safe might mean her kindness is an act.

If it is, there’s a chance Lady Brienne will never see this.

Cottie grabs his hand. “Dance with me?”

“Of course,” he readily agrees.

Most people sit or kneel in front of weirwood heart trees, but Cottie believes the gods like to see people dancing and are more apt to answer their prayers. Pod imagines, in her case, the gods _are_ likely to pay more attention when she’s dancing; it’s when she’s at her most free and happiest.


End file.
